Strangers in the Woods
by The Truth's Lie
Summary: "You think you can protect him? You're just a colony!" "Then I'll be a nation! I'll grow up and be big and strong and then I'll protect England from everything that'll hurt him! Even bullies like you! You'll see! I'll be the greatest, biggest nation in the world! I'll be England's hero!" Warnings; bear attacks and hints at USUK.


**AN; Since they're nations, I figured they would refer to Earth kinda like we refer to them, with capital letters and stuff. I dunno, it's head-cannon for me.**

England stood up and cracked the muscles in his back. He picked up the vegetable filled basket and called out, "Ammeeerrriccca!"

No response.

England frowned. America was a rambunctious child to be sure and while it wasn't odd for him to scamper off, it was unusual for him not to reply. He called out again.

No answer.

He was beginning to get worried. America was a strong child and could easily handle anything the woods surrounding the mansion threw at him but still...he worried. He jogged inside quickly, careful with the steps. France, the bastard that he was, had dug out his eye earlier and he was still getting used to his lack of depth perception. It would grow back in a few months but for now he had to get used to the constant tripping and head ache organ regrowth brought. He set the basket on the table and ran back outside. Now, if he was America, where would he go?

England followed the well trodden path through the forest. Hopefully he had just gotten bored and wandered into town. He looked up at the sky. It was a little before noon if he had to guess and still fairly sunny. "America!" He yelled. "Blast it all, lad, where are you?" He muttered. "America!"

"Britain, dude!" A voice responded. "Where are you?" A tree violently tipped over, inches from his face. He lept back.

"What on Earth?" England exclaimed. He was fairly certain no nations he was aquainted with were strong enough to do _that!_

A bloke a good deal taller than him clambered over the fallen tree, grinning good naturedly. "Sorry about that, bro!" He laughed obnoxiously. "I couldn't see where I was going! Since when does your house have a huge forest around it anyways?"

England stared at the stranger, confused. What on God's green Earth was a "bro"?

He waved it off. He was obviously a new nation, one he hadn't heard of. He almost smiled. France was going to be so jealous, wasn't he? He shook his head, clearing away his childish thoughts. "It's lovely to meet you." He said warmly, holding out his hand. "I'm Britain as you already know, may I inquire for your name?"

The stranger stared at him with large eyes before taking his hand gently. "You don't know who I am?" He asked.

England chuckled, a fine question to ask! "Terribly sorry, old chap, but no."

He paused. "Do you know what year it is?"

It was England's turn to be surprised. "Why, it's 1688 of course!"

"Really? No foolin'?"

"No, no "foolin'"".

What an odd language he had. The tall stranger was quiet long enough to make England grow impatient. He sighed. "I apologize." He said. "But I'm looking for my little brother and must be off."

He turned around quickly, determined not to be kept there a moment longer. "Your brother?"

"Yes. Perhaps you've seen him." He said as they walked. "His name is America. He's fairly short." Here he held a hand above his hip in example. "With blue eyes and blonde hair." The stranger adjusted the hat on his head. It looked to be a knitted cap with pointy ears and a silly smile.

"Have you checked by the caves?"

England stopped in his tracks. "Caves? What caves?"

"The bear caves. I-uh, passed by them when I was walking."

"He wouldn't go near them." He whispered, turning an odd shade of grey. "I have told him time and time again to stay away from those caves."

"Well, you said he was little, didn't you?"

England burst into motion, running as if the hounds of hell were at his heels. The stranger easily kept pace but he didn't matter now. Who mattered was America, sweet, foolish America who couldn't listen if his life depended on it! He was going to get the thrasing of a lifetime when England was through with him. He didn't bother to weave through the large trees and small rivers, simply booming in a loud echoing voice, "_move_"! The trees jumped to the side as if they were alive and the stranger yelped in surprise.

"What the hell?"

The bears were normally dim, easy to control creatures but winter was finally drawing to an end and they were barely awakening from hibernation. They were irritable, on the verge of starving and completely unpredictable.

A scream.

A _child's_ scream.

_America's_ scream.

He, in turn, responded with an ear shattering battle cry as he burst through the final trees. America was cowering against a tree, arms covering his face as he sobbed. The bear roared a challenge as the eldest nation surged forward to protect his brother. America cried out again. Gone was the strong child who could probably snap the bear's neck with a single hand. In its stead, was just that.

A child.

One he would protect with all his life.

The stranger took his place beside him but England waved him off. "America!" He insisted. "Get him away from here!"

"But-"

"You are a stranger on my land! Do as I say!" He thundered in a voice reserved for France and the villains in America's story book. The bear charged. He caught the left paw with both his hands as the right slashed across his belly. He grit his teeth and pushed. He would never harm any animal that had been doing what it was instinctively meant to do, but any animal-any _anything_-that hurt America must die. He bent backwards as the paw scraped over his head, goring the left side of his face.

"England!" America wailed as the big bad, meanie, cruel stranger carried him away. He pounded his back with his fists, a feat that would make any other nation fall and possibly cough up blood, but the stranger gave no sigh he noticed. "No, England! I hate you!" He screeched. "Put me down, you brute! I hate you! I hate you! Put me down! Put me down! England!" He sobbed freely into the strangers shoulder. "Put me down I have to go protect my England! England!" The stranger threw open the door to England's house and set him down next to a basket of vegetables.

"Stay here!" He commanded before running away.

America sobbed for a minute more before sliding down the table, wobbling on jelly legs. He grabbed a large knife that would make England have a heart attack if he knew he was holding it before charging out the door.

The older America made quick work of the bear, slamming it time and time again against the rocky mouth of the cave until it was nothing but an ugly, bloody carpet. England panted harshly, teeth grit shut as his glazed unseeing eyes stared up through the canopy of trees. America's heart almost broke because _he remembered this now_. He remembered everything that had happened today...and he knew what he had to do.

He dropped to his knees and kneeled by his former mentor. England cried out in agony as blood poured through the hole in his side. America ran his hand through his hair, careful to avoid the wounds. "You held up pretty well for an old man." He murmured. England moaned again. "Don't worry," He soothed, more for his own benefit. "It'll all be over real soon." Then he brought his fist down on England's face.

Just as the knife slashed across his back.

"Get away from him!" The child screeched again, brandishing his knife. "Get away." He dodged the next slash. "You hurt him!"

America took a deep breath. "And just what are you going to do about it?" He plucked the knife from his fingers and tossed it to the side. He remembered these words, remembered the cruel, towering stranger that had spewed them, and how he'd puked in the bushes from fear after everything was over and done with. "You're too little!" He spat. "You think you can protect him? You're just a colony! Face it, England's going to keep getting hurt over and over 'cause you're too little to do anything about it!"

"I'm strong!" The child shouted back. "I can protect him! I can!" He sounded as desperate to prove it to himself as he did to the stranger.

"No, you can't, you're just a colo-"

"Then I'll be a nation! I'll grow up and be big and strong and then I'll protect England from everything that'll hurt him! Even bullies like you! You'll see! I'll be the greatest, biggest nation in the world! I'll be England's hero!"

Then America smiled. "I'm sure you will."

He remembered those words too. He stood, and wiped off his hands on his jeans. "The first step to being a hero, run to town and get Doctor-"

"McDonnell!" The child screamed. He scurried over and grasped his brother by the uninjured parts of his waist, dragging him to an upright position and running off. A child's memory forget the danger the stranger had posed to England. America looked down at the older nation. He was going to be knocked out until Friday, if he remembered right.

He didn't start crying until he was safe back in his own time. Tony gave him an odd look as he collapsed on the sofa, still sobbing. The alien gently patted his head. America clung to a throw pillow as the video game music roared obnoxiously in the background. He didn't hear the doorbell ring for the first five minutes, but had the sense to peel away his bloodied jacket and jeans, tossing them onto a pile of dirty clothes as he heard footsteps clatter down the hallway. Tony quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

"America you forgot your phone at the meeting I knocked but-America!" England gasped in horror. "Are you alright? You're bleeding!"

"Well," the taller sniffed, "I guess that answers your first question, huh, dude?"

"Don't get cheeky with me, git! Sit up! Oh dear that looks bad, we better put a plaster on it right away!" He stood in front of America, hands on his hips. He felt like a kid again, staring up at his angry big brother before he burst into tears once more. England panicked. "Oh no, dear, don't cry!"

He had the overwhelming urge to sink to his knees and bury his face in England's stomach like he'd seen Australia do so many times before. Instead, he let himself be herded upstairs, peeling off his muscle shirt as the other dabbed at the wound with hydrogen peroxide. It bubbled unpleasantly and England hissed in sympathy. "Honestly," He scolded, plastering on Superman and Captain America band-aids. "I don't know how you manage to get yourself into these messes, America, I really don't."

He smiled simply and drifted off too sleep to a surprised call of "Oi! No, no, no-!"

America was almost jolted completely awake as he was dropped on his bed. England tucked him in soundly and muttered fondly, "stupid git" before removing his glasses and pressing a swift kiss to his cheek. He woke with the same, large smile on his face.

England tugged out the last dying tree from the ground. Cordelia giggled and Alice clapped. "Thank you so much, Arthur." The latter said gratefully. "It's been so crowded lately."

"It's no trouble at all, ladies." He said to the dryads. "Although I wondered what-" He promptly fell on his face.

"Oh dear!" Cordelia gasped in horror. "Arthur are you alright?"

"Quite, I just tripped." He examined the object in the ground before uprooting it. It was an old steel knife, the handle horribly burned, probably from the fire that had destroyed most of the forest years ago. It stirred up something unpleasant in the back of his mind.*

"What is it?" Alice asked.

"It's an old knife. How the devil did this get here?" He wondered. "Oh well...it's old and rusty, no point in keeping it. I'll just throw it in th rubbish bin when I get home." England stacked the trees up and dragged them away from the forest.

"Goodbye, Arthur!"

"Yes, goodbye!"

He waved and smiled, shivering as if something cold had dripped down his shirt. That night, he did as he had said, wrapping the knife in an old cloth so it wouldn't rip the bag before placing it with the trash. After an hour of mind splitting headaches, he took the entire garbage bag out and left it on the curb. He felt much better after that and never bothered with it again.

**Explanations;**

***Head trauma made England forget everything. America filled him in some but was too traumatized to go into detail**

**Everything else; Basically when America was little, England was mauled by a bear and a stranger told America he'd have to gain independence if he ever wanted to protect England. America was that stranger. (The revolution came much later because he knew he was too little to do anything.) Saavy?**

**What's that? Why'd America go back in time in the first place? He wanted to see a Beatles concert but epically failed.**

**The End.**

******Kay then, Review now! Please? Pretty please with USUK on top?**


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